


When the Grass Smells Sweet

by KateThorne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, M/M, Porn, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 06:03:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2299142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateThorne/pseuds/KateThorne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summertime makes Sam notice things about Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Grass Smells Sweet

It was that summer before Sam's sophomore year of high school. The summer of his first growth spurt, making him all gangly and knobby and reedy looking. Sam never remembered Dean looking like this, but when Sam came to his father with too small shoes in hand, John gave him a weak smile with a sigh, like he had gone through all this before. Logically, Sam realized that Dean hadn't always been as tall and broad shouldered as he was now. He must have gone through this awkward phase as well, it was just the way boys grew. And Sam should have remembered it too. After all, he and Dean had been sharing a room, looking across the dinner table at each other Sam's whole life, but Sam couldn't remember Dean as anything other than the way he looked now. Kinda like Dad, but softer in the eyes. 

Sam remembered the waist high weeds that grew close together, like grass. They smelled kind of sweet and sticky, same as the heavy, humid air they breathed in that Kansas summer. Their Dad was gone, almost perpetually since Dean turned eighteen and got his GED, started working at the gas station off the highway.  
Sam would spend the days outside, laying in the shade of the trailer that got so hot under the sunshine and smelled constantly kind of hamstery and stale with two teenage boys taking up all the space. He'd read the books he 'borrowed' from school and draw in the margins of the ones Dean bought him when they went to the Goodwill a town over. When they didn't have time to go to the laundromat, Sam would strip down to his underwear to spread out in the sunshine. It wasn't like there was anyone around to see.

“You'll burn,” Dean would always say whenever he caught Sam doing it, “You'll burn right up, then what will you do?”

But Sam didn't burn, just turned sort of dark and olive colored. He sort of hoped he'd burn, though. He'd heard Melinda tell Kasey in science class that you get freckles when your skin burns from the sun. Dean was covered in freckles, from head to toe. Sam thought they were beautiful.

Sam's body was like a swamp beneath his boxers, making his thighs stick together and making his underwear cling to him in odd places. The elastic of the band was showing at the front, thin, white little tubes of rubber sticking out that Sam would play with unconsciously when he was just down to that last layer.

He felt the Impala before he heard it, laying in the grass with his head by the ground. He kept his eyes closed to the sun, staring at the hot orange red backs of his eyelids and waiting for Dean to come closer, playing dead. He felt his brother's shadow fall across his chest as Dean stood over him.

“Hey, nerd.”

“Hey Dean.”

“Good day?” 

“Can't complain.” Sam said, one hand reaching for the frayed elastic of his boxers. Sam blinked up at his brother, Dean's head blocking the sun at just the right angle, sending it off in bounding rays around his head. Dean's eyes followed his hand to his stomach. 

“You're weird.” Dean said flatly, but there was never any bite behind it. “Get up and lets get some food, I'm starving.” 

Dean held out his hand, it was rough and hot when Sam wrapped his own in it; self conscious of how sweaty his palms always seemed to be, especially inside of Dean's. 

“Hey, Sammy.” Dean asked as they walked into the trailer, “Let's rent a movie too, yeah?”

“Yeah, ok, Dean, whatever you want.”Sam said lazily. 

He liked when Dean came home from work; wired and restless and constantly moving, constantly talking. Sam felt a little bad that his brother spent ten hours a day just sitting alone at the gas station, waiting for someone to pull up for three minutes to get a fill-up. But, a small part of him also relished in the fact that he got all of Dean's stories and energy all to himself. 

“Dean?” Sam said as he followed his brother inside, “Dean?”

“What's up?”

“Can we get a pizza?” Dean was quiet for a minute. Sam could see him adding up his money in his head, his brother always licked his lower lip when he was concentrating. Sam thought it was beautiful. “Just... just with cheese? And a little one. An eight inch one isn't that much, right? We could... we could have one of those. We could share.” Sam wrapped the white elastic string around his finger, watching it turn red and purple without circulation. “I just... All we have left are the spaghettios. And I ate some for lunch. And dinner last night.” 

“Yeah. Ok, Sammy.” Dean said, clapping his hand over Sam's shoulder, “Yeah, anything you want.”

******

The air conditioning almost knocked Sam off his feet as he walked inside of the video store, Dean right behind him. 

“Pick something good, Sammy.” Dean said, clapping his brother on the shoulder, “Nothing black and white, ok? Not again.” 

“Wait, where are you going?” 

Dean gave a cocky grin and a wink, tossing his head toward the back of the movie store. 

The town they lived in, about an hour outside of Lawrence, was what Dean once called a “one horse town.” There was one post office, one dry cleaners, one pizza place and a Dairy Queen. There was also one video store with one, beaded off, darkly lit section in the back with big, bold signs. ADULT the signs said, forbidding Sam from following where Dean was heading. 

He wasn't stupid. He knew what they kept back there, recognized the same sort of shamefaced and eye averting symptoms of adults when they talked to him about It. Sex. The most important thing in the world that Sam didn't know anything about. 

“How about Batman?” Sam asked. “Dean? Dean? How about Batman?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever, “ Dean wasn't listening, he was looking to make sure the cute girl who sometimes worked at the counter wasn't there. She wasn't. It was their friend, Ash, working tonight. “I'll be right back, kiddo.” 

Another clap on the shoulder and Dean was gone. Sam grabbed the vhs case from the shelf and wandered towards the front, where Ash was telling one a customer about the government conspiracy to put a gps on every person in America. 

“The future, man, we're all gonna have computers that can fit in our pockets. And we'll be so complacent, playing games on our pocket computers that we won't even notice when the man is putting birth control in our water supply. I mean, if they can distract us, keep track of us and control our numbers... It's tyranny, man.”

Sam put his video up on the counter and looked back towards where Dean had vanished behind beaded curtains. The customer gave Ash a good natured chortle before heading out. They always did that to Ash. He smelled like pot all the time and he didn't know when to shut up about aliens or cover-ups, but Ash was a good guy and everyone liked him. Everyone indulged him, at least. 

“SamSam.” Ash said, drumming his hands on the counter, “Where's the big guy?”

Sam glanced over his shoulder again and Ash assumed the rest. He let out a bark of laughter. 

“I love that man.” Ash said, “Getting porn for his brother. That's a fucking decent thing to do.”

Ash was too impressed with both of them for Sam to tell him the truth, so he just nodded and tried to act like he knew exactly what porn was like and was appropriately embarrassed by it. He heard Dean walk up behind and was spared the act. 

“Aw, sweet, Batman.” Dean said, handing the case he had picked up from the back over Sam's head. Ash took it and winked at him.

“I ain't a cop, man. I think it's really cool that you're taking care of the guy like that.”

“The fuck you talking about, Ash?” Dean asked, but with that humoring smile most people used when they were talking to Ash.

“C'mon.” Ash said, shaking his head, “Helpin the kid out. I swear, I wish I had a big brother like you. Puberty would have been like” Ash snapped his fingers, grinning broadly as he typed their account info into the computer behind the counter. 

“What, you think I'm scamming porn for Sammy here?” Dean ruffled his hair like Dad did when he was eight. He never did that when it was just the two of them, only when someone was watching too close. Sam hated how Dean was different when someone was watching. 

“I ain't a cop” Ash said again. 

“You're a sick son-of-a-bitch, Ash.” Dean said shaking his head with a grin.

“Whatever, man. I think it's solid. And,” Ash held up the cover of their VHS. “Two girls? One for each? He wiggled his brows between them. Dean looked like he was done humoring Ash, turning red and looking away, throwing his money on the counter.

“C'mon, Dean. Don't be like that.” Ash called as they practically ran out of the store, “Don't be mad. It was funny! Wait, Dean?” There was a pause where Dean wrenched open the door, “You'll still buy weed from me, though, right?”

Dean was quiet the whole way home, deliberately not looking at where Sam sat with the pizza box in his lap. Usually Dean never shut up. He had something to say about everything, so good at bullshitting and shooting the breeze. Dean was good at talking. But when Dean got sort of serious like he was now, quiet and withdrawn, that was when it was weird. Extra weird because it was so obvious that Dean wasn't saying something.

One time, when Sam was six, he and Dean went to the fair in Lawrence. John left them to go eat pizza and cotton candy, telling them that he would be right back. They weren't supposed to talk to strangers and they were only allowed from the petting zoo at the front to the ferris wheel at the back and Dean was supposed to hold Sam's hand the entire time because Dean was the big brother. 

Obviously, Dean let go of Sam's hand almost instantly and went to the tilt-a-whirl. Sam was too little to ride, so Dean made him swear to stay by the rail.  
Sam was going to, really, he was, but there was a person handing out free carmel apples just a few booths down and it was really boring, waiting. Sam hated that he was the always one waiting, so he went to get a carmel apple and bring one back for Dean too. 

He recognized his Dad's voice, first. It was a weird bell of recognition around so many strangers. A deep chuckle that Sam recognized easily, even if he had never heard it very much. Dad was usually tired or annoyed or working, so Sam marveled at the sound of Dad in a playful mood. Maybe he wanted a carmel apple too. 

_They're kissing_ was the first thing Sam thought when he turned the corner between the trailers where greasy food was handed out on napkins. _Kissing_. Sam thought again before he considered what that meant. 

She had pretty, short blonde hair and was thick around the thighs. He his back to the aluminum wall, she was crowding him in, _kissing_ him. He didn't even have time to think what it meant. It was just... _kissing._

“Dad?” It was Dean, behind him, following him and actually reacting versus Sam who could only stare. 

She let out a horrified gasp and jumped away from John like it had all been some misunderstanding. Everyone was still fully clothed, it was nothing to really traumatize a kid, it was just a revelation.

Dad was a _grown up_ , a _human_ , and he _kissed_ thick thighed women.

She made an embarrassed sound and excused herself. Her name was Kate, but Sam only found that out long, long after. 

“You, ah, you boys done?”

“Yes, sir.” Dean said flatly. 

Sam didn't understand, it must have been a grown-up thing that Sam didn't understand because Dean was standing there looking distant and hurt for no good reason that Sam could see. It wasn't until when they got home, climbed into their bunk beds, Sam heard his brother's voice from the top bunk.

“He just misses Mom.” Dean said, somewhat suddenly as he had been completely monosyllabic the whole way home and even went to bed on time despite Dad saying he could stay up and watch TV if he wanted. It wasn't like Dean to sulk and push his food around his plate at dinner. It wasn't like Dean to willingly go to bed on time, but John didn't say anything about it and everyone was just quiet and weird around each other all night.

“Sam?” Dean said when he didn't immediately say anything, “Sammy?”

“Yeah, Dean?”

“He just misses Mom.” 

“Yeah.” Sam echoed.

“She has the same hair Mom did. He misses her.”

“Yeah.” Sam said again. He didn't remember his Mom, but Dean and Dad got this really tight look on their faces when he said it.

John, of course, never talked about it. They never saw her again and he went back to being annoyed and tired all the time. 

“C'mon, Sammy, before the pizza gets cold,” Dean said, ruffling Sam's hair again as they got home. “I want to see Schwartzenegger. _Meeestaaaa Frueeeeeezzzzee._ ” 

Dean talked through the whole movie, they had both seen it before. He gave Sam one of Dad's half warm domestics from the fridge with the pizza, a gesture more than anything since they both knew that Sam didn't like beer much. Especially not when it was warm and foamy like it always was when Sam drank it.  
Dean had a way about him, this thing where he tried too hard to entertain Sam. Acted like Sam was three and could be distracted from anything by something particularly shiny or loud. As the movie ended and Dean started cleaning up (kicking the pile of cans into the kitchen) Sam's hot, half drunk beer started to feel like a bribe. Dean didn't ask Sam to leave, but Sam could feel in the way his big brother was looking at him out of the corner of his eyes. 

Dean had this way about him, distracting Sam from anything too personal. Acting like Dad and treating him like a kid when he didn't know what else to do. Sam didn't like the idea of Dean being like Dad. 

“Are you going to watch your other movie?” Sam asked softly. Dean turned red and looked away. “Can I watch it too?”

“Sam... that's not...no.”

“But...Ash said...”

“Ash is a perv. You don't watch porn with other dudes and you don't talk about it, ever.” Dean said quickly, “Ash... Every time I hang out with Ash he just wants to put in a skin video and you don't do that sort of thing with your brother.” 

“You watch porn with Ash?” Sam asked, genuinely curious. Dean turned redder.

“Yeah, not... it's not like, hey I need to go to Ash's to sit on his couch and jerk it.” Dean said, “It's more like, I need some weed and to chill out with a friend and Ash is just so close to the station. He puts it on... and I'm always stoned...”

“Do you actually... jerk it with him?”

“Sometimes.”

“And I can't watch it?”

“No, Sam, Ash doesn't have any brothers so he doesn't get it.”

“But...”

“Fuck it, Sam. This isn't a conversation we're having anymore. You're... you're just a kid. ”

Sam finally got offended at that.

“Am not.”

Dean rolled his eyes and let Sam's petulant pout speak for itself. Sam hated it when Dean was right about him. 

“Go to bed, Sam.” Dean ordered, in his Dad voice. Sam hated it so much he could scream. Instead, he went into their room and laid on his back, in his clothes, staring at Dean's mattress above him. 

He lasted about three minutes. He knew because he was counting. Sam cracked the door to their bedroom, opening it enough that he could see the back of Dean's head on the couch and the flashing images of the TV on the wall. 

_“Oh, Tiffany, that's a great way to raise money for our science project.”_ Came a high pitched woman's voice, all saccharine sweet and fake. 

_“Hello, sir. I'm Jasmine. I'll be washing your car today. Is there anything I can do to earn a little extra?”_

_“Oh, Tiffany, my shirt's wet!”_

_“It's so cold! I need to warm up.”_

There was something plastic about the girls on the TV. Maybe they were too tan or wearing too much make-up, but Sam found that his eyes just sort of ghosted over their bodies, not feeling much besides a base reaction to their hands in lips, but even in his heart, it felt shallow. Just the tip of something much more powerful. Sam was fourteen, he knew what arousal felt like. He knew what boners were, and he knew how to change his sheets in the middle of the night without making any noise. 

Dean was watching the movie, though, and he must have been more into it than Sam was because he was practically squinting at the screen, folded over himself and no doubt rubbing where Sam couldn't see. It was weirder than seeing Dad kiss a woman. It made Sam feel something deeper than that. 

Sam stepped away from the door, having seen enough to know that, like a lot of other things in this family, this was just something he'd never understand.  
He climbed back into bed, palming his half hard dick through his clothes, without much purpose, he wasn't worked up enough to whip it out. 

A shadow fell over the crack in the door. 

“You jerkin' it in there, Sammy?” Dean asked, but not in the teasing tone that Sam was expecting. It was kind of hoarse. Kind of... unsure. Sam had never heard Dean talk like that before. 

The door opened all the way and Sam couldn't see Dean's face, just the flashing images of the movie, still playing in the living room behind him, lighting Dean sporadically.

Sam felt Dean's eyes roam his body, falling on Sam's crotch, tracing the way Sam's hand rested on it, a constant pressure of relief. 

“Saw you watchin'.” Dean said, stepping forward into their room. “Heard you open the door, perv. So, you come back in here to jerk it or something?”  
Sam took his hand away from here it was over his crotch, “No,” he said plainly. 

“Didn't like it?”

“It was ok. Liked it fine.” 

“Wanna... wanna watch it? You can come out there. I guess it's ok.” 

“Really?”

“Just... what didn't you like about it? Was it... was it the girls?”

“I like girls fine, Dean.”

“So, what, then?”

Sam faltered for a moment, over how to say just what was missing. Pretty girls being as believable as could be expected, doing exactly what they had been told that men wanted to see. Sam didn't know how to say that it didn't seem... sexy. They didn't have any freckles and they were trying too hard when they licked their lips. They didn't smell like corn chips and leather and gasoline in their hair.

“Liked what they were doing,” Sam offered, trying to get his brother to stop staring with so much fear on his face, like Sam was about to announce that he was gay and Dean was going to have to find a way to react to that. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah... Yeah I liked the way she held that girl's head... liked how she touched her.”

“Is that all?” Dean asked, and Sam took a gulp. 

This was something. Something that they shouldn't be doing, they shouldn't be saying. That was the only way it was possible, because it felt too hot, too stifling and suffocating and so goddamn delicious that Sam could taste sin in the air. 

“Liked... liked the way they kissed each other. Liked how she kissed her... down there...”

“You ever kiss a girl there?” 

Sam swallowed, Dean knew he hadn't. 

“Tastes like warm cantaloupe juice. Feels like licking one open. Gets on your face, when they get wet down there.”

“Yeah?” Sam asked, his voice breathy and thin. 

“Yeah.” 

Dean was closer, but it didn't matter, because as far as Sam was concerned, he wasn't close enough. Even in their empty trailer, with no one to see them, he felt like they should be whispering; sharing salty air between them. 

“You liked how she touched her?” Dean asked. 

Sam nodded, his eyes wide and his jaw wired shut as he was drawn so tense like a bow. Dean seemed loose, lazy, confident. God, it was so beautiful it wasn't fair. 

It was Dean who made the first move. It would always Dean who would be willing to bit the bullet for Sam.

He ran a finger lightly up Sam's arm. It shouldn't have meant anything, but it was too light, too teasing. Too much for Sam who was already so desperate he was making a fool of himself while Dean got to tease. 

“What are we doing?” Sam asked, but he didn't think anything in his voice could be conveyed as wanting to stop. 

“Anything.” Dean said softly. “Tell me the second you want me to stop.”

“Don't stop,” Sam whispered. 

And, like a gun shot went off, Dean was on him, climbing into bed and finding space between Sam's thighs, instinctively spread for him. 

The heat, the pressure, the feeling of Dean above him, on made Sam's skin burn with the need for more pressure. He needed more contact, or he thought he might explode out of his skin like a snake. He was close to thrashing, close to begging for something he couldn't even fathom and Dean was staring at him.

“Touch me again,” Sam pleaded, whiny the way Dean hated when he asked for name brand cereals. “Dean, I'm dying.”

“Not dying,” Dean cooed, grinning smugly, “Horny.”

“I'm horny, then.” Sam agreed. He threw his head back, begging Dean to touch him along his exposed neck, “C'mon, Dean. C'mon.”

The ghost of Dean's breath on his already hot skin made him shiver, arching up for it, finally finding Dean's hips poised above his own. Sam reached between them, pawing clumsy and fat fingered at Dean's fly. Hard. Dean was hard and Sam needed more before either of them came to and pulled off each other like they were supposed to. 

Dean latched onto his throat and Sam moaned, writhing up all helpless and ugly as Dean went to work, sucking the skin up into his hot mouth, pulling it through his teeth. Biting. _Hickeys_ was the word. Dean was giving him _hickeys._

Sam's hands went to Dean's hips, grabbing the hot shin he found there and pulling it down into his lap without the sort of fine tuned sensuality Dean seemed to have mastered. 

“C'mon, Dean,” He whispered again. Maybe he had been whispering it the whole time, “C'mon.” 

“Yeah.” Dean said again, “Anything.” 

Sam's hands were under Dean's shirt, pulling it up and feeling Dean's skin in a way that was entirely new and yet so familiar. It was Dean. Dean's body that carried him piggy back and Dean's hands that ruffled his hair when people were watching. It was Dean, and Sam got him all to himself tonight. For a million nights of pizza and movies and now this. 

Dean started sliding Sam's shirt up too, kissing his stomach as it was revealed, biting hickeys down there, lower and lower. 

“Want me to blow you, Sam?” Dean asked. He looked down at his brother, wild eyed and feral, “I'll blow you.” 

“Dean?” Sam asked, as Dean went back to mouthing that space there, above his pants and boxers. “Dean? Dean? I want...” 

Dean finally looked up at him. 

“Make love to me?” 

He felt to small again, naked and needy beneath his cool big brother. Dean scooted up his body, planting hands on either side of Sam's face. He leaned down, pressing plush lips to Sam's. 

They were, _kissing._ It was a slow drag of lips, over and over again, Dean licking him open with care and precision, correcting Sam's technique and enthusiasm easily. 

“Yeah, Sam.” Dean whispered, his hips dropping down and fitting against Sam's like a puzzle piece. 

The world stopped for a minute. Just a really quiet, single moment when Dean hitched his hips and rolled them, rolled Sam up against the bed. Sam could't catch his breath, he was being knocked windless with every single thrust Dean made against his body. His neck hurt from the angle. He was getting dizzy from only breathing Dean's air, his brother's air. Dean was holding him so tight, so hard, Sam wondered if he'd have bruises in the morning. He wondered if this, this dry humping, whispering, pleading, horny dying would leave bruises between him and his brother in the morning too. 

“Dean, don't let me go. Promise me you won't let me go. Promise we can do this all the time.” 

“Yeah, Sam,” Dean gasped into his hair, “Anything.” 


End file.
